Winter Light
by fujoshisx2
Summary: During his working holiday in Yorkshire, Alfred moves into a room in an manor in the countryside owned by a young Lord named Arthur. After unrevealing a series of mysteriousness of the Kirkland Manor, both of them found something that is worth treasuring for the rest of their lives…Rated T for language and violence, contains other parings. Based on The Secret Garden.
1. Prologue

Dear Arthur,

I know you probably still haven't gotten yourself a phone yet, so I just wrote, which I never did. You should feel honored to be the first person whom I care enough to wrote a letter to.

I know I should have visited during Christmas this year as I had promised a long time ago, but there was a valid reason why I could not make it. If we ever have a chance to meet again, perhaps I will tell you. Or maybe not, because it will just break our hearts once again.

Are you doing good? Did your father come home at last? Is Francis still working for you? Has Roderich finally proposed to Elizaveta? There are thousands of questions that I want to ask you, but I want to ask you face-to-face, not through a letter, or some kind of electronic device. To be honest with you, I miss you very much.

I am now working as a police officer; tough job, but good enough for someone like me. I am never good at academics stuff anyway, so I chose to become a police. It is good to know that you have the power to save someone, which I probably have to thank you for that.

Tell Peter and Allistor I'm sorry that I could not make it this year. I do not mean to make you jealous, but I did promise your cousins that I will be back one day. But this year is just not the right time.

Did you take good care of your mother's garden? I hope you did, because I will definitely want to see what it looks like after five years.

This is going to be a really short letter because I just can't find any words to say to you. True, I don't write a lot, but there is still things that are left unsaid when I left the Kirkland Manor. I was going to bring it into my grave and forget about it for now, but every time I looked at the bookmark I thought of you, and I have to talk to you.

If you still feel the same way as before, send me a letter.

And have I mentioned that I miss you very much?

Love,

Alfred

* * *

><p>I never wrote a prologue before because I never found it useful, but I have to write one because I really have absolutely NO time to write a full chapter.<p>

BTW this is basically a rip-off of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett; it is my all time favourite classic. The chapters are named after the songs from Teshima Aoi's album La Vie En Rose which also contains her cover of Winter Light. They are all lovely songs and I always listen to them when I write.


	2. Chapter 1: Song of Green Mansions

The taxi bumped and creaked as it moved across the cobbled road. Alfred F. Jones stared out of the fogging window. The sun slowly peaked out from the gray clouds.

So this is it, he thought. Besides the endlessly stretching lands of grass and wilderness, nothing came in sight for the past ten miles they had passed through.

The car came into a halt in front of a rusty gate. A sign which read 'property of the Kirklands' stood beside the walls which surrounded the only building within fifteen miles where actual human beings lived. Ivy vines entwined the bars of the front gate, pricks and colourful flowers showed through the massive amount of yellow leaves. It was September; almost autumn and the weather was already quite cold.

Alfred hauled the luggage from the taxi trunk and looked at the massive building in front of him. It looked like it was about to collapse at any moment, and with a stream of wind it could tear down the entire balcony on the second floor. A small chapel from the eighteenth century was just behind the untended and overgrew garden.

What gave him a chill down the spine was a graveyard that was beside the chapel.

"Good luck, young lad," the taxi driver gasped at the sight of the building as they arrived Alfred's destination. "You'll need some here."

"Yes," Alfred said half-mindedly. "I definitely will need some."

The manor was dire. Although the outer-walls were well-kept and clean, it could not hide the fact that it was probably centuries old already. The path that leads towards the main entrance was covered with wild flowers and overgrown grass.

He never expected that he would have to spend the next eight months in this manor.

After graduating from high school and entering university, Alfred decided to take a gap year and go on a working holiday. He chose Yorkshire because it was a quiet place and he could clear his mind before going back to New York again. He took up a job at the Kirkland Manor, but he was still not sure what he was supposed to do here.

His life had been nothing but average for the past nineteen years of his life. He went to school with his brother, and then college, and decided that it was not really his thing. Because he did not want to disappoint his parents, he just told them that he wanted to 'experience something new' and took a year off from his university. He needed time to rethink; rethink what exactly was he doing with his boring life.

Was there other meaning for him other then study, work, retire, and then die eventually?

Was there something that he had been missing out the whole time?

These questions never bothered him until the day his parents asked what he wanted to be when he graduated.

He did not know the answer.

The countryside may be a good change for him. Maybe it would help him figure it out, or maybe it would not. Even so, it was worth a try to Alfred.

He walked up the path which led him to the Manor; or a castle, to be more accurate. The Manor itself was once a castle, perhaps for royalties. Although thick layers of dirt and cracks hid the former prosperity of the property, Alfred could still imagine how it would be like a few centuries ago. But just like the garden behind; it withered.

Carefully walking up the staircase in front of the two-sided wooden door decorated by Victorian trimmings, Alfred knocked on the door with the handle. The hollow sound echoed through the house.

A moment later someone opened the door. It was a woman in an old-fashioned dress and an apron around her waist. She had light brown hair and green eyes, and a really warm and welcoming smile on her face.

"Hi!" she greeted Alfred. "You must be Mr. Jones!"

"Yes, I am, and please call me Alfred," Alfred replied, reaching out his hand to shake the friendly lady's.

"I am Elizaveta Hēderuvāri, the housekeeper," the woman said. "You must be very tired after such a long trip. Please come inside!"

She gestured Alfred to follow her inside the house. To Alfred's surprise, the content of the manor was actually…decent. A huge chandelier was hanging down the ceiling just above the two-way grand staircases. Carpets covered the wooden floor and various patterns were printed on them. Drawings were all over the wall which all looked very ancient and expensive. There was nothing in the main entrance except for another hallway which led to the deeper parts of the house.

"It may be very difficult to find your way here at first, but you will soon get used to it," she said. "I still remember how Roderich got lost in the manor and we spent two hours just to find him!"

Seeing Alfred's confused look, she added, "Roderich Edelstein is my colleague. He is very nice for most of the time, and is amazingly good at music; especially piano."

The lighting was very dim in the hallway that led to the living room. There were a couple of doors which were 'all spare rooms' according to Elizaveta, and more cupboards and candlesticks which occupied the vast space. Alfred was starting to feel a bit nervous as he heard the creaking sound the old wooden floor made every time he gave his luggage a bigger pull.

At the end of the hallway stood a tall young man with bright red hair, who was wearing an old school suit and tall hat. He glanced at Alfred for a second but remained indifferent.

"Allistor, I thought you were leaving early today?" Elizaveta asked. The redhead bended down and kissed both sides of her cheeks as greeting. "Or perhaps you will be staying here for lunch?

"I'm sorry, but I have to be in Edinburgh before tonight," the man said in a thick Scottish accent. "Thank you very much for your help, Eliza."

"It is no problem at all," Elizaveta smiled and said. "I will do everything to help Sir Kirkland."

When the man called Allistor walked pass Alfred, he nodded at him slightly and Alfred returned a nervous grin.

"He is Allistor Kirkland, Sir Kirkland's nephew," Elizaveta told him. "He always come here to visit on his way back to his home in Scotland. Anyway, Alfred, let me show you your room first."

They went up to the stairs in the corner of the main hall and what Alfred saw was just another two rows of bedrooms. According to Elizaveta, a lot of them are vacant and unused for at least a century. But they still cleaned them regularly despite that nobody really needed them at all.

"There are a hundred and twenty bedrooms, thirty bathrooms, four kitchens and five storage rooms in this building in total," Elizaveta told Alfred. "We have only thirty staff to maintain this building, so it is quite difficult for us sometimes."

Elizaveta told him to pick whatever room he fancied in the second turn. Those rooms looked like they had been renovated recently, and the rugs were all new.

"This part is where most of the staff live," Elizaveta said. "You can pick one of them as long as it is not taken. I have to get back to work now; here's my number," she took out a piece of paper with a series of numbers written on it. "Just call or text me if you need any help. Lunch will be ready at about one o'clock, come down whenever you are ready."

"Thank you," Alfred replied, very appreciative of Elizaveta's helpful attitude. He was afraid at first to have to deal with a grumpy old woman who would not tolerate any sort of mistakes.

After looking in every bedroom in the corridor, Alfred picked one room with a nice view to the garden from behind. Although the garden was untended and messy, he still felt a strong affection towards it for some reason.

He started unpacking and putting away his clothes into the closet and drawers. His room was not big, but it was more than comfortable for him. For a person that had grown up in noises and neon lights, he felt like he could finally enjoy a moment of peace during his stay here.

The weather was relatively good that day; 13 degrees, a bit of sunshine and breeze from the north. Alfred thought that he may go out for a walk within the Kirklands' property.

The other thing he found terribly reliving is that there was actually internet in the countryside. He texted his brother Matthew about his arrival and put his phone away, opening the door to join the other staff for lunch downstairs.

Elizaveta introduced him to other staff living in the Manor. Including Roderich, who was a serious man and rarely smiles at all. There was another girl called Lucille, who was nice enough to offer Alfred a small but timid smile.

A boy named Peter was apparently another long-term resident in the Kirkland Manor. He was another nephew of the owner of the Manor, but his parents were too busy to take care of him so they just sent him here instead. He was particularly close to Berwald and Tino, the two men who were in charge of renovation of the other parts of the house.

"Alfred, you will be working with Francis for the following year in the orchard just half a mile away from here," Elizaveta said to Alfred. "He is Lucille's older brother, and he is a really kind person. So don't worry about it too much."

Alfred only nodded as his mouth was filled with homemade, homegrown cottage pie. He never expected that English food was not as bad as everyone had told him.

"I almost forgot, Alfred," Elizaveta suddenly said. "We are not allowed to go to the hallway at the west of the third floor. Orders from Sir Kirkland himself."

"I will keep that in mind," Alfred assured her.

* * *

><p>That night Alfred tossed and turned but just could not fall asleep.<p>

The first reason was that it was cold as hell at night.

The second reason was that he heard some really strange noise coming out from the hallway which echoed through the entire manor.

He heard the sound of weals screeching on the floor, and then footsteps, and then a sound of something falling down and a gasp of pain and frustration. Then the four sounds repeated themselves over and over again throughout the night. Alfred was not scared of supernatural activities, but he was somewhat curious about it.

"Hey, Elizaveta," Alfred asked the housekeeper in the morning. "Is this manor haunted?"

Elizaveta looked surprised for a moment, and exchanged a look with Roderich who was sitting next to her.

"What are yo talking about," Roderich coughed and said. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

"Roderich is right, Alfred," Elizaveta gave Alfred a nervous smile. "Anyway, Francis will drive by to take you to the orchard with him. He will be here in about half and hour, so you'd better get ready!"

Something seemed very strange about the attitude of Eliza and Roderich towards Alfred's question. But he did not spend too much time worrying about it.

After changing into his hiking boots and long-sleeved T-shirt, he met Francis in the driveway with his truck at half past nine in the morning.

"You are Alfred, yes?" Francis asked in a obvious French accent. "I am Francis Bonnefoy."

"Nice to meet you," Alfred said, shaking the Frenchman's hand.

"I will show you around the orchard today," Francis said, opening the truck door for him, and took the driver's seat himself.

The unchanged scenery passed through Alfred's tired eyes again. There was a rain last night and the grasslands were damp and wet, the sun yet not bright enough to shine through the thick layers of mist in the light blue sky mixed with shades of gray.

Alfred noticed that Francis had rather long hair that reached his shoulders, and it was blond in a way that he would find quite attractive. He had the same eye and hair color with his sister.

"I am a cousin of Sir Kirkland's wife," Francis told him. "During the recession our family business in Paris closed down and we have nowhere to go, so Sir Kirkland offered my sister and I a job here."

When they arrived the orchard which was part of the Kirklands' business, Alfred was slightly taken aback by the scenery he was welcomed with when he first stepped out of the car.

It was the most gorgeous place he had ever seen.

Off to the side of the path were endless green trees all nestled together to make one beautiful piece of art. The orchard was covered with trees and plants as far as the eye can see. Rolling hills and in the distance the peaks. The sound of a stream that followed gets louder until it thunders over a fall into a pristine lake.

Silvery twigs rustled in the wind as it passed by. The light green leaves spiraled to the ground, dancing majestically through the air, eventually landing on their final resting place. The earth seemed damp and trodden beneath their feet. Various kinds of plants and flowers bloomed everywhere on the ground.

"This is incredible," Alfred exclaimed.

"I know, right?" Francis smiled and said. "All my hard work during the spring has paid off."

The followed a small path which led to the apple grove. A few baskets of ripe apples were placed under a several apple trees. The air was filled with the fragrant of nature and it was extremely soothing to someone like Alfred who was born and raised in the polluted big city.

"There isn't really much to do here since it's almost winter, and the others have already harvested most of our plants," Francis told him. "The real work will begin during spring, so you can enjoy the next three months as your holiday."

"That's more than fine with me."

The sky was cleared from the clouds that covered it from before. The sunlight shone upon the orchard, splattering a beautiful golden color on the landscape. The rain from before made everything seem so pure and clear.

Francis left shorty after giving a brief instruction of how to get to the cottage across the orchard where he lived during the weekdays in order to care for the orchard. Alfred walked through the long paths that stretched for miles and miles across the land, all belonged to one family for centuries.

Suddenly he felt that something had awakened within him. It was like seeing the world the first time when he opened his eyes. New, unknown, mysterious.

And _beautiful_.

He thought that maybe he could really find something that was missing inside him.

The source of light that he had always been searching for.


	3. Chapter 2: Night and Day

A week had passed by quickly before Alfred noticed.

He had settled in really well and fast; everyone in the manor was reasonably friendly and welcoming to him. Although he was just a temporary staff and tenant here, they all treated him as he was an important guest.

He had gone around the small community formed within the Kirklands' property. There were other tenants living in some of the houses built nearby the main manor, and most of them were really nice and helpful. For instance, he met an Italian artist and his older brother, who was a gardener and was working with Antonio. Feliciano mostly painted the nature and animals, but some of his paintings contained a young boy with bright blond hair. Alfred never asked him about it.

There was another boy around his age living inside the manor; an Icelandic named Emil. He did not say much about himself, but it seemed like he had run away from home and 'escaped' here because his father was a good friend of Sir Kirkland. He was mostly silent and stoic, refusing any further contact with anyone else.

Other than that, Elizaveta told Alfred about Sir Kirkland's adopted son- Leon Kirkland. "He is somewhere in Asia, I think," she said. "It seems like he has found his birth parents."

"Does Sir Kirkland have any children of his own?"

"Well…" Elizaveta muttered, and was immediately called away by another staff to handle something else, leaving his question unanswered once again.

Although Alfred already felt comfortable living in Yorkshire, there was something that was bothering him constantly.

He felt like he had been hidden from something.

He did not know why he felt that way. Maybe it was the feeling of him being watched sometimes when he was walking through the garden; but every time he turned around, he found no one there.

Or maybe it was the strange noises that came from the other part of the manor in every night.

In the twelfth night at around two in the morning, Alfred was woken up by a loud noise of something large being crashed to the ground. Alfred shot up in a jolt, thinking that it was an earthquake as he was not fully awoke yet. He got up and wore his jacket and home slippers, and grabbed the torch placed on his dresser; he was determined to find out the source of the mysterious sounds at night.

From what he had heard, the sound came from the third floor, and was just above him so that he could feel the ceiling shaking. Although he knew clearly that he lived in the west wing, of which the third floor was prohibited to enter. But his just could not help his curiosity.

Gently opening the door in fear of waking the other staff, Alfred walked towards the main staircase and tried his best not to make the stairs creak. He walked in a really slow pace in case he stepped on some places that were easier to make noises.

_There is no such thing as ghosts,_ Alfred reminded himself once more of Roderich's words.

The third floor was probably the only part of the house which had not been throughly renovated yet. It still kept its own original appearance from the middle ages when it was built. The drapes were all very ancient and dusty, parts of the rugs were torn and there were still silver candlesticks stuck to the wall.

Alfred felt like he had travelled back in time all in a sudden.

He turned on his torch and shone it across the long hallway. There was no one there, but he could almost hear someone's heavy breathing coming out from the inner parts of the third floor.

"Hello?" he whispered.

There was no response.

Alfred gathered his courage and took a step forward. Luckily the floor did not creak as he thought it would. He took a few steps again, and soon was confident enough to walk in a quicker pace.

All in a sudden there was another crash. And another gasp of pain. Alfred felt his heart pounding as if it was going to jump out of his throat.

"Is anyone there?" Alfred said. His voice was hoarse from the rapid heartbeat he was experiencing right now. Although he did not want to admit it to himself, he was indeed terrified.

There was someone, something there. Alfred took a deep breath and quickened his footsteps, and took a turn in the second corridor.

At first he thought he saw a spirit when he shone the light on the person collapsed in the middle of the hallway. In the bright light he looked even paler than he was. A wheelchair was beside him, and he was trying very hard to grab the handle beside the staircase.

When the man saw Alfred, his eyes grew in terror, and the terror soon became anger.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"I…I'm sorry," Alfred said, switching off the torch as there were candle light in the hallway. "I heard some noises and I thought someone was hurt."

"You'd better-damn it!" the man struggled to stand on his feet, and fell on the ground once more.

"Let me help you," Alfred rushed forward and tried to lift the man up back to his wheelchair, but was returned with a glare.

"I can stand up myself," the man snapped.

"No, you can't"

"I can."

"You can't," Alfred insisted. But when he put his hand on the man's arm, he slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me," the man said, turning his head away from Alfred.

"Then what do you want me to do?" Alfred sighed and asked. "I can't just leave you here."

"I will just wait until morning, like I always do, and Elizaveta will bring me back," the man said. "Please leave, I don't like seeing strangers."

"Well, I have a way to make us non-strangers," Alfred rolled his eyes and said. "What's your name?"

"Why should I tell you-"

"My name is Alfred F. Jones," Alfred interrupted him again. "19 years old, first year of Harvard University, taking a gap year to work in the Kirkland Manor. Your turn now."

The man seemed angry and shocked at the same time. Maybe nobody had ever talked to him like that. "Arthur Kirkland."

"Oh, so you are the 'Sir Kirkland' they are always talking about," Alfred said. "Nice to finally get to meet you, I guess." _Even in the strangest way ever,_ he thought.

"No, I think they mean my father," Arthur told him. "Nobody really talks about me. Or I should say, they are not allowed to."

Alfred stared at the young man, half laying on the ground, still trying to support his lower body on the wall. "Are you hurt?"

"I am most certainly not hurt," Arthur said defensively.

"What's with your legs…"

"This has been a permanent condition from the second I was born," Arthur said, giving up to stand up and slowly sat down the ground again.

Alfred did not know what to say, so he just replied, "Sorry, I didn't know."

Arthur sighed and said, "Can you go now, please?"

"There's no way I'm just going to leave you here," Alfred told him sternly. "If you're not going to let me touch you, then I'll just call Elizaveta to come get you."

"No- no! Don't call her," Arthur said, kind of panicky. "She will be furious if she finds out that I am out of my room again."

"…then how did you manage to get back every morning before they found out?"

"I did not want to tell you this, but…" Arthur sighed again. "Peter is the only person who knows about this."

"Peter? That little boy?" Alfred said in surprise. "He's your cousin, right?"

Arthur did not answer, and simply sighed again. "Look, Mr. Jones, I don't care who you are, what you're doing here, why you're here whatsoever. It is never my decision of who is coming or leaving, but I do beg you; do not break the routine of the Kirkland Manor."

"Routine?"

"Please- just leave," Arthur said again.

"If- if that's what you want," Alfred replied, still uncertain whether he should forcefully help Arthur or not.

"Thank you," Arthur said, sounding almost relieved.

So Alfred retrieved to his own room and shut the door close, where he would remain in complete silence for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>The next morning when Alfred woke up, the first thing he thought about was whether it was a dream or not that he met a man called Arthur Kirkland last night.<p>

He could not ask Elizaveta- or else she would know that he had been to the off-limits area of the manor. But the curiosity was literally killing him.

So he chose the most harmless way to get his answer.

"Hey, Peter," he patted the young boy's shoulder. Peter was playing with his new electronic helicopter in the back of the main hall, where no one would disturb him.

"Hi Al! Check this out, Berwald built this for me!" Peter said cheerfully, making the helicopter do a graceful swirl in the air.

"Cool, kid," Alfred said, half-mind. "Look, Peter; is there someone called Arthur who lives here?"

"What? Arthur?" Peter said, switching off the power of his new toy. "That jerk Arthur?"

"Jerk?"

"He's my cousin, he used to be super mean to me," Peter huffed. "Well, that was before he locked himself into that room upstairs."

"Why would he do that?"

"He has some kind of illness, I think," Peter said thoughtfully. "He cannot be exposed to sunlight for too long, and he cannot walk properly. Also, he is allergic to tons of stuff."

"But even if you're sick, you can still, like, talk to people, isn't it?" Alfred asked.

Peter looked around the hall to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but since you've already found out-" he shrugged and continue, "Uncle Archie's wife, Aunt Lilias died when Arthur was born. Arthur has always been unhealthy and ill…I think Uncle Archie hates him. Arthur thinks so too."

"What? That's impossible, no one would hate their own children," Alfred exclaimed.

"But Uncle Archie rarely comes home at all," Peter said. "Plus, he has never given any birthday present or Christmas present to Arthur. Elizaveta says that it is because he doesn't want to be reminded of Aunt Lilias."

"This is insane…" Alfred shook his head in disbelief. "How long has this been."

"Twenty-three years…since the day Arthur was born, I guess," Peter told him.

The face of Arthur Kirkland stroke Alfred once more. The stubbornness, the facade of being strong and independent. The pale cheeks that seemed like they had never been exposed to the sun before…

"Alfred, Peter! Where are you two? Breakfast is ready!" Elizaveta's voice came closer to them.

"We'd better go," Peter said. "Don't tell anyone I told you everything, okay? Although they would if it isn't Arthur who told them to keep this a secret."

"Arthur told them to?"

"Yeah, that jerk thinks he's some kind of mystery of the manor or something like that," Peter rolled his eyes.

Alfred carefully avoided Elizaveta's eyes while eating his breakfast in front of her, feeling the guilt of knowing something that he was not supposed to overcame him.

But maybe…just maybe, this was the chance of finding out what he really wanted to become.

Maybe saving Arthur Kirkland would save himself somehow.


	4. Chapter 3: Wouldn't it be Lovely

_If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden._

Ever since the night he met Arthur Kirkland the mysterious noises had stopped. Perhaps Arthur was too embarrassed to have Alfred finding out what he was attempting to do every night.

No matter how, Alfred wanted to meet that strange Lord-to-be once more.

One night he found his chance to sneak up to the hallway above when the other staff had a long day of cleaning up the courtyard (which was more of a vast spread of land than an actual yard). With his phone fully charged and used as a light source, he carefully walked up the stairs and stood in front of the forbidden hallway.

He knocked on every door there but there was no response- it was not like he expected one at first anyway. So instead, even though he knew that it was absolutely impolite to do so, he opened every door and left after he saw the empty beds inside each room.

Arthur Kirkland was not in any one of them.

This bothered him the entire day. He was not even the least bit excited when Peter offered to show him the newest video game he ordered online.

"Come on Alfred, just one game!" Peter begged him.

"Sorry Peter, I gotta ring my brother," Alfred told him, rushing by his side to go to his room.

Matthew was a med student in the University of Toronto; if Alfred was going to ask someone about a sickness, his brother would be the right one to go to.

Alfred switched to his back camera and saw his brother's weary face on the screen. "What happened, Alfred?" Matthew asked in his usual soft voice, even more quiet because of his tiredness.

"Do you know a kind of sickness which can cause someone to loose the ability to walk since birth, unable to be exposed to the sunlight, to leave his room, and to have an extremely unpleasant personality?"

For a moment Matthew just stared at him, and said, "Look, I have three essays to write. So if that's all you want to say -"

"I'm being serious, dude!" Alfred rolled his eyes and said, and lowered his voice in case someone was outside the hallway. "I met this guy called Arthur Kirkland, and he's apparently the son of my landlord. He was that 'someone' I was talking about just now. Do you have a slightest idea of what happened to him?"

"I do know people can be born crippled, or have sicknesses that make sunlight deadly to them; Arthur Kirkland must be a special case," Matthew said, and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Alfred, I really need to go now. I promise I'll look the symptoms up for you, alright?"

"Right," Alfred grumbled, a bit unhappy about his brother's unhelpful attitude.

"To be honest with you," Matthew sighed. "Sometime's it's better to stay out off other people's business."

Curiosity was definitely killing Alfred as the unchanged patterns of the week passed by. Frost already started to form on the windows which made it hard to see the view outside the manor. It was only merely autumn to him, but the world surrounding him already seemed so…bald.

Leaves fell down the trees and plants began to wither. Although the temperature was quite suitable for a long walk across the field, it was still a sad sight to witness.

He spent more time with Peter as they seemed to be the only two people in the house who were not occupied by housework. He was apparently being 'homeschooled' but instead the adults just let him do whatever he wanted. Elizaveta had told Alfred something about Peter being bullied when he was studying in a private school in London, which caused his permanent fear of ever going back to a proper school.

"Didn't his parents say anything about that?" Alfred asked the housekeeper.

"As you can see, he is sent here by his parents - they just don't have the time and energy to care about him," Elizaveta smiled bitterly.

_Time._ A beautiful but a cruel concept for one to bear. It seemed like eternity at first, but turns out every second slipped by as the wave crashed by the shore and rolled back into the ocean once more. It was something you cannot grasp, and will probably never understand.

Leon Kirkland returned that evening when they were having dinner, he tried to make a hasty retreat after greeting everyone, but was instead stopped by Elizaveta, who insisted him on eating this meal with them. He had nothing on himself except for his appearance that suggested he had an oriental background.

He looked about the same age as Alfred himself, but he seemed more…mature, tired, and experienced, as if he had already been in the cruel outside world for his entire life. He remained silent and expressionless for most of the time; the only one whom he spoke to with a smile was Emil.

"So," Elizaveta started. "How did it go in Hong Kong?"

Leon shrugged, and probably realized it was too impolite to not give a vocal reply. "Nothing, really."

"Did you meet your mother?"

"Oh, yes, she's lovely," Leon said sarcastically, and continued with a hint of anger in his tone. "Absolutely _lovely. _The first thing she asked was that if I had enough money to pay off her debt from gambling. Lovely, isn't she?"

"Oh, Leon," Elizaveta frowned, and put a hand on Leon's shoulder sympathetically. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It was alright," Leon shrugged again. "I stayed in her flat for another fifteen minutes and left; won't be back ever again, that's for sure."

Emil looked away and said nothing after he heard their conversation, but Leon did not seem to mind the least bit.

Alfred did not mean the eavesdrop but he did listen very carefully without missing a word, curious about every single member of the Kirkland household.

After dinner Alfred went outside to the untidy garden by himself, wandering along the path he took every morning to a nearby lake. The sky was clear after a shower and the stars above him shone brightly. Not a cloud to be seen and there was not any airplanes flying across occasionally to disturb the quietness and the vividness of such a beautiful scenery above his head.

"Hey," a voice suddenly said behind Alfred, giving him a small fright. He turned and found Leon in front of him.

"Sorry to bother you," Leon said. "But it's kind of rare to have someone around my age to live here."

"Isn't Emil the same age as us?"

"Well, he's different," Leon said. Alfred did not ask him what he meant by 'different'.

"Elizaveta told me about you," Alfred said.

"Yeah, sure," Leon said. "That doesn't really matter anyway. Like, you've heard what I've said just now. My birthmother's literally a piece of shit."

"Seems like it," Alfred laughed.

"But that's not the point- Peter told me that you've met my brother," Leon said; it was rather a statement than a confirmation.

"That was an accident, I never wanted trouble," Alfred quickly explained.

"Chill, you're far away from trouble - at least further than I am," Leon told him. "In fact, I came to ask for a favor."

"A favor?"

"Now that you've met Arthur, can you do something to maybe… help him?" Leon sighed and said. "This has been going on for years and although I am not related to him by blood, he's still my brother and I want to do anything to help him. I will do literally anything if he gets out of the house."

"Well, why can't you do anything then?"

"No way," Leon said with a bitter smile. "He hates my guts."

"What?"

"Literally, he hates my guts," Leon repeated. "I was adopted by father five years after Arthur was born and his wife passed away, so it is quite obvious that father intends to replace him with me as his inheritor. I won't blame Arthur for that; I would hate the person who stole everything from me."

"But it wasn't your fault, you never planned for this to happen!" Alfred reasoned.

"What's happened has happened, and the person who made it happen will be blamed no matter what," Leon said.

"So how exactly do you want me to help Arthur?" Alfred asked finally, seeing how serious Leon's expression was.

"Talk him out of it," Leon said. "That's all I'm asking from you."

"Leon, I don't want to upset you or anything, but your brother is _sick_," Alfred reminded him. "I'm not a doctor or a therapist, I can never do that."

"He is not sick; he made himself believe that he was," Leon insisted. "I'll leave you alone now but please, if you can do anything to help-"

"I get it," Alfred interrupted. "I have an older brother too, and just like you, I would do anything to help him out."

"Thank you," Leon looked relieved. "I knew that I could count on you."

"I don't wanna make this sound weird but- I just met you?"

Leon laughed. "I would trust anyone that Arthur is willing to talk to; he is a very skeptical guy." He paused and looked at Alfred directly. "Maybe it is something in you that made him think he could trust you."

_Something._

* * *

><p>The noises from above had stopped for almost two weeks now, and Alfred was almost giving up the hope of finding Arthur Kirkland anywhere in the manor.<p>

Perhaps he had insisted to move since his presence was known to a stranger new to the Kirkland manor, or perhaps he was simply afraid to have Alfred talk to him again. Either how, Alfred was even more determined to find him after the sincere request from Leon.

Sometimes Alfred almost felt that someone was watching him as he passed the small chapel and the graveyard into the back garden to look at the withered roses and lilies, hoping to find any clue to look for Arthur in the seemingly _secret_ garden. But every time he turned around, it would only be a squirrel or rabbit that sneaked into the bushes. He soon found out that hardly anyone entered that part of the property, as if it was a cursed place that could not be disturbed.

As if there really was a _secret_ amongst the withered garden.

Peter would sometimes accompany him; although he was always badmouthing about his ill-tempered cousin, Alfred knew that the young boy deeply cared for Arthur.

Leon soon went back to London to continue his first year in university. But before he left, he again thanked Alfred's effort with gratitude and wished him luck. Alfred did not want to let Leon down, but Arthur was still nowhere to be seen.

He understood the feeling of wanting to protect Arthur; he may only had met him once, but once was enough to know that Arthur needed company.

_Something was oppressing him and enclosed him like he was settled on a wheelchair._

One afternoon when there was enough sunlight, Alfred brought a shovel with him to dig up the remaining roses that were still alive and put them in a pot to move them indoors. Winter was near and he hated to see such beautiful plants wither in the cold and snow.

The feeling of being watched overcame him; but this time if felt like he was the one who was observing quietly.

When he hummed a tune and walked pass the rose fields, he saw a blond man in a wheelchair facing backwards at the grave of a woman named Lilias Kirkland. Ivy vines entwined the stone but her name was still a distinct line of words in between the wild flowers.

Alfred breathed in and took one step forwards the wheelchair. Arthur did not notice that someone was behind him and stared at the grave of Lilias Kirkland…

_"Arthur!"_


	5. Chapter 4: Smile

"Arthur!" Alfred jumped at the voice of Elizaveta behind him. Arthur was obviously surprised as well. Elizaveta stood behind Alfred with a shocked expression frozen on her face, her eyes grew at the sight of Alfred.

At the direct sight of Arthur's green eyes, Alfred thought that he had seen that same shade of green somewhere before. But he could not justify the reason himself.

"Alfred…but Arthur, you-" Elizaveta stuttered, looking back and forth at both young men.

"It is alright, Eliza," Arthur comforted her. She looked like she did not know what to say or do.

"You shouldn't be out if you do not wish to be seen," Eilzaveta sighed. "Sometimes I just don't get what you're thinking, honey."

"It is alright," Arthur said again. "He knows."

"He knows?" Elizaveta exclaimed. "But how-"

"Sorry, Eliza, can you give us a moment?" Arthur said to her. "I will return to my room later."

Elizaveta looked hesitant. "If that's what you want, then alright," she finally said, turning around to walk out of the garden and leaving Alfred alone with Arthur in front of the grave.

"Hey," Alfred broke the awkward silence. "It's been awhile."

"Yes, I am well aware of that," Arthur replied, whirling around his wheelchair for a bit, but still not enough to face Alfred directly.

"So…?"

"There are not enough roses for my mother," Arthur simply stated, his tone without emotion. "Could you get some for me at the front yard?"

_Lilias Kirkland. _This name did ring a bell now that Alfred had thought of that.

"I can take you to the front yard, if you want to," Alfred offered.

"No," Arthur said almost immediately. "The backyard is fine because it is still part of the house, but the front yard is way to near outside."

"It won't hurt to just go out for awhile, you know."

"How do you know?"

"Probably because I'm still alive?" Alfred suggested with a hint of sarcasm.

"_I_ may not be anymore after I set foot outside," Arthur huffed.

"That just sounds bizarre to me."

"What did Leon tell you about me?" Arthur suddenly demanded. "I know he went back; he must have told you something."

"If fact, your _brother_ asked me to help you; in one way or another," Alfred told him calmly, indifferent of Arthur's rising temper.

"He's not my brother," Arthur snapped. "And he never will be. He is always acting all nice and helpful just because he pities me."

"He doesn't pity you, Arthur; he cares about you."

"Nobody ever cares about me."

Even someone as light-headed (sometimes) as Alfred could see that this statement was overly exaggerated. Arthur said it with so much vain that if it manifested itself Arthur would be drowned in it entirely. This statement made in vain was not true until the least bit; at least that was what Alfred thought. "At least Elizaveta does, I can tell," he said, trying to reason with this stubborn English nobleman.

"She is paid to care for me; so is everyone else in this house," Arthur replied. "In this world we are in, money can buy us almost everything."

Alfred tried really hard not to roll his eyes or breakdown and shout in front this grumpy twenty-three year old. "How do you know?"

"I do not have to _know _in order to fully understand this," Arthur said firmly, as if this statement already settled how he was going to live the rest of his life.

It was so quiet that the wind blowing through the tree branches could be heard, along with the shattering sound of leafs. The last glimpse of sunlight gently brushed over their skin, leaving a fading shade of red and orange.

Arthur's face was as low-spirited as the first day Alfred had seen him, but his cheeks were tinted with a slight bit of redness. Whether it was from the nature or from talking to another person, he looked more like he was alive and breathing.

"Now that I notice, I know why you are always so sickly," Alfred said to Arthur, turning around to witness the beautiful sunset. "You never smile."

"What do you-"

"Smile," Alfred said, and offered him one. "It's good for your body."

"Childish," Arthur scoffed.

"Just try."

The tints of red grew brighter as Arthur touched his cheeks and forced his lips to curl. The awkward but vivid smile on his face seemed to make a tiny bit of his weariness disappear.

"There you go," Alfred beamed. "You look much better."

"Shut-shut it," Arthur turned his head away and pretended to cough.

The last ray of sunlight slipped away, leaving them in the darkness with only an old-fashioned lamppost at the back of the garden, automatically switched on as the clock in the main hall rang for sixteen times.

Everything seemed so peaceful at the moment, as if there was a invisible shield that somehow blocked this manor with the rest of the world, leaving it in absolute silence.

Arthur sighed and put the remaining flowers on his lap on his mother's grave. "I guess I will have to visit here again tomorrow."

"If you don't mind me asking, what's the occasion?"

"Today is her fiftieth birthday," Arthur replied. "I thought that my father may come by to visit, so I stayed here all day."

Alfred walked towards Arthur and kneeled down before the stone covered with vines. He saw the words neatly carved on the stela.

_Lilias Kirkland_

_1964.11.01-1991.04.23_

_Where you tend a rose, a thistle cannot grow_

"Her epitaph is beautiful," Alfred said.

"People said it was from a novel, but I do not know which one they were referring to," Arthur told him. "And she was as beautiful as the quote itself, from what I've heard."

Beautiful is an intense word itself, for it emphasizes the fact that an object's appearance was likable, and somehow it also assumes that the inner beauty exists as well. Just like the garden that was long withered, just like the lady who passed away decades ago, just like the flowers that once grew for her, they were all utterly beautiful.

"She must had been," Alfred smiled and said.

"There is another story," Arthur suddenly said. "That is about a _secret garden_ in the manor. It blooms for four seasons and the plants never withered in there. But since my mother's death, no one has ever seen it."

_The secret within the grounds they were stepping on had maybe been long gone with the wind that carried it with the late Lady, but the key was still kept silent somewhere. Buried in the earth and unnoticed, it was still waiting to be found by someone. _

"I can help you find it," Alfred offered.

"What?"

"The garden you were talking about, I'll help you look for it!"

"Stop talking nonsense. Do you really think such thing exists?" Arthur reputed in disbelief.

"If fact, I do."

For a moment Arthur seemed surprised, but his expression was again covered up with vain once more. "It is merely a story, I am afraid."

"Every story is based on a truth," Alfred said. "If your mother's garden blooms again, your father will surely come back."

"Do you have any idea how wide this spread of land is?"

"I don't know but- I believe if we search hard enough, we'll find it," Alfred insisted. "You want your father to return, right? This may be your only chance!"

This statement kept Arthur thinking. He was not considered young anymore; twenty-three years old is an age when people graduate from university and start a completely independent life on their own. Well him- he did not have much choice because of his condition. For his whole life he never took one step out of his father's land in the middle of Yorkshire, nor had he met anyone outside the manor. He had been in his own captive world forever, and taking a step forward always seemed impossible to him.

"…Arthur?" Elizaveta returned with a torch in her hands. "It is getting dark, you should go back inside."

"Elizaveta, please show Alfred where I live now," Arthur simply requested.

Elizaveta looked fairly reluctant. She walked over to Arthur and said, "Arthur, can you please return now? I need to talk to Alfred, too."

Arthur obliged without arguing further, knowing that Elizaveta was stubborn enough herself to insist on what she asked for. After Arthur's wheelchair disappeared around the corner, Elizaveta turned to Alfred.

"Am I in trouble?" Alfred asked.

"No, you're not," Elizaveta sighed. "As long as our dear young master says so."

"Actually Leon told me something about Arthur…I know he has some kind of sickness, right?" Alfred said carefully.

"Yes, and there's seems to be no cure for it," Elizaveta answered, shaking her head in regret. "He had seen hundreds of doctors and they all have the same conclusion: they do not know what is Arthur's problem."

Alfred fell into silence. It was rather hard for him to imagine an incurable sickness…how was that even possible? Arthur was pale enough to be a vampire, yet he did not seem to mind his health condition at all. He always spoke with such esteemed pride which almost resembled an aristocrat; although he was indeed one, as a matter of fact. Yet Alfred did not believe that what the young noble had was a fatal disease.

_He would be fine only if he wanted to, _he thought.

* * *

><p>Peter was curious of what Arthur said to Alfred the other day. When they were having breakfast (of course while others are absent), he kept asking questions. This amused Alfred because, although how much the young boy denied it, he could see that he cared about his cousin very much.<p>

"I've never seen him walking out of his room," Peter said. "It's even rarer than seeing Halley's Comet."

"I bet it is," Alfred laughed.

Francis came by that afternoon and offered to take Alfred to a small town ten miles down the manor. "If you wanna buy any modern food, that's the only place you can go to."

So Alfred went along in Francis's car and they drove down along the countryside roads. Francis seemed a bit more tired than the last time Alfred had seen him.

"I heard that you talked to Arthur?" Francis asked.

"Yeah, I did; kind of."

"That guy's my childhood friend," he said, lighting a cigarette. "Very strange, I must say. My sister and I had lived here for a really long time when we were kids because our parents never had the time to take care of us. I don't know what exactly happened but one day he decided to lock himself away and I've never seen him since then."

"Since when?"

"Since twelve years ago. I don't even know he's still living here."

This new piece of information frightened Alfred as he could not imagine one not seeing sunlight for twelve years' time. No wonder his family was so worried about him.

"Do you know where's Sir Kirkland?" Alfred asked.

"Nobody does," Francis said. "He is always anywhere but here."

"But why?"

"Because Arthur looked too much alike my cousin _Rosé_."

Alfred frowned. "I thought she was named Lilias?"

"That was her English name that her father gave to her, but her French name would always be Rosé," Francis told him, blowing out a puff of smoke. "She really did love roses more than anyone else on Earth."

* * *

><p>The dawn breaks through the sky with a beam of bright red and gold. The light was so strange that it could almost burn a hole in the curtains that blocked them out the rooms.<p>

Alfred never expected that he could possibly wake up at a time like half past six; but he did that morning. He yawned and stretched his arms wide, getting out of his warm bed to get his woolen coat. All he longed for at the moment was a nice mug of fresh, steaming hot coffee-

"The hell?!" Alfred jumped and exclaimed as he saw the unexpected visitor behind the door to his room. It was Arthur, comfortably wrapped with a thick blanket with a scarf around his neck.

"Good morning," Arthur said, as if it was completely normal for one to ambush another in front of a door room.

"How long have you been outside my room?"

"About five minutes," Arthur replied. "You must come out now."

"That was what I intended to do before you scared the shit out of me!" Alfred said. Arthur frowned upon his usage of words.

"Anyway, why were you waiting for me?" Alfred said as he pushed Arthur's wheelchair despite of his protest. "And how did you manage to get up the stairs?"

"I was waiting for you because I need you to do something for me," Arthur simply said. "And I got up the staircase because I have a _lift _in the manor"

"A lift," Alfred snorted. "Rich people's privilege."

"What did you just say?!"

"Nothing, nothing," Alfred quickly answered. "Then, where are we going?"

"The fifth floor," Arthur demanded. "And you have to be quick."

"I've been living here for like, two months and I don't even know there's a lift here."

"The lift is at the end of the hallway. Just- be quick!"

Alfred marched on with a quick pace while pushing Arthur's wheelchair into the said lift in the manor. It was quite small, but could fit in a wheelchair and another two people in total.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"Something that even I cannot handle."

There was nothing on the top floor except for a greenhouse of which nothing grew in it. But the glass walls were still clean, so apparently it had been maintained properly but nobody ever bothered to grow plants in it anymore.

"Is this what you want me to see at six in the morning?" Alfred asked.

"I found a locked door inside the storage room, but I could not open it," Arthur told him. "It was my mother's greenhouse as well, I thought that it may have something to do with…you know, her 'secret garden'"

"Ha, so you do believe in that, even if you said that I was childish," Alfred said with a smirk.

"Oh please, just shut your worthless hole."

Arthur moved his wheelchair forward and gestured Alfred to follow him. There was no light in the greenhouse since the electricity was cut off for some reason ("Probably because of my father," said Arthur). Alfred grabbed a lit candlestick from one of the hallway stalls and followed Arthur with gentle steps, as it felt like the rooftop could collapse at any moment.

It was quite empty except for some pots and shovels left in the corners of the vast room. A few pieces of the glass walls were broken, bits of it were on the floor and not being cleaned up.

"By the way," Alfred suddenly broke the silence as they walked. "Why did you decide to search the house all in a sudden? Especially at the middle of the night?"

"I will tell you later- maybe, if we have time."

"Oh come on, the only thing you've got here is time."

"Or perhaps not."

"What?"

"Can't you see? I am _dying_."

The mention of death was like an unwelcome stream of breeze that would blow away their only source of light. Alfred did not like that word. "Can you stop talking like that?" A unidentified urge of anger and wanting to shout at Arthur rose from the bottom of his sub-conscious.

"You are not dying. You are just like your mum's garden; it only needs someone tending to it before being alive again."

Arthur did not say anything.

"You are not dying, Arthur, but you are never alive either."

"That does not make any bloody sense to me," Arthur snapped.

"Yes, it does, but you're just too stubborn to believe it," Alfred insisted.

They glared at each other from above and below for quite awhile, and Alfred finally gave up.

"Let's just go inside."

The former greenhouse was very dusty and filled with cobwebs instead of plants. If someone showed Alfred a picture of this place, he would automatically assume that it was a scene from a horror movie.

"Here it is," Arthur stopped in front of a door covered with dirt. "This is the storage room."

It was almost empty except for some long-forgotten broomsticks and buckets laying around the ground. There was nothing special about the storage room.

Except for the other door that was on the wall.

Alfred went over and tried to turn the doorknob to see what was inside, but the door would not budge.

"Stand- I mean sit back, Arthur," Alfred said. He went over to the exit of the storage room and dashed towards the locked door, attempting to kick it down by force.

"Shit!" Alfred gasped as he knelt down to rub his hurting right leg. "What is this door made of? Gold?"

But now that he thought of the possibility, it would not be strange if the door was made of gold after all.

"We need to find a key," Arthur stated.

Alfred bent down and carefully examined the door knob. It was those old fashioned circular ones. "I think… the key is relatively big and heavy, maybe made of the same material as the knob, which is wood."

Arthur raised one of his eyebrows. "I have never expected that you are also a detective."

"I'm not; it's just logical thinking," Alfred shrugged. "No matter what, I'm still a student of NYU."

"Huh," Arthur simply said.

"It's true!" Alfred said defensively.

"Anyway," Arthur quickly interrupted him. "We need to find a key that goes with the lock"

"And how are we supposed to do that? There are, like, hundreds of rooms in this house. So there must be at least hundreds of keys as well."

"I know exactly who to ask," Arthur said. "Let's go to the kitchen."

Roderich and Elizaveta were already awake. They were talking to each other at a relatively low manner but stopped at once as they heard someone coming in from the hallway.

"The key of the room inside the storage room in the greenhouse?" Roderich frowned and put down his tea cup as he heard Arthur's request.

"Yes, I need to see what is inside," Arthur replied.

"I do not think there is much to see inside, Master Arthur," Roderich turned and looked at him with an indifferent expression. "To be honest, I don't even know there is a room there."

"Then give me the key ring."

"I am afraid that I am not authorized to do so," Roderich simply told him. "Your father has strict rules against the abandoned rooms in the manor."

"I just need _one_ key-"

"I cannot give you the key ring."

"It is because of my mother, is it not?" Arthur champed with anger. "He is hiding everything about her from me- but what good can he get from it?"

Roderich did not answer instantly. He took a sip of the Earl Gray tea in his cup and sighed. "Everyone has their secrets."

As Roderich glanced at Elizaveta for just a slight moment, Arthur and Alfred already knew that his mouth was sealed.

* * *

><p>"I cannot believe it." After twenty minutes, Arthur was still grumbling this sentence over and over again. "I simply cannot believe it."<p>

"We'll have to find the key ourselves," Alfred sighed and said.

"If he would just give us the key, it would make things much more easier-"

"Or maybe," Alfred interrupted. "Maybe, he doesn't have the key as well."

"What makes you think of that?"

"It's just that…I don't think anyone but us knows about that room. I mean, it's kind of a private room, isn't it? Maybe your mum didn't tell anyone about it," Alfred suggested. "Just a guess."

Arthur thought for a moment. "I suppose you are right."

After these hours of searching, it was almost ten in the morning. The sun finally broke through the November storm clouds and sent a ray of sunshine on the moor. The back garden seemed just a bit more livelier with a touch of light.

"Take me to the back garden," Arthur simply said. Alfred obliged without another word.

The stela was still there, under the shade of bold branches hanging down the trees beside it. Arthur stood before his mother's grave, as if that would give him any further clues of the whereabouts of the garden.

_"Where you tend a rose, a thistle cannot grow,"_ Alfred muttered to himself.

_Where you tend a rose._

_Rose._

_"_Arthur," he said. "Where are the roses?"

"In the front yard. I told you before, did I not?"

"I know where the key is."


	6. Chapter 4 and a half: Christmas Special

I remembered it was the first white Christmas I had ever had in Yorkshire.

I was awoke by my younger brother Leon, who was running downstairs to . Of course he was excited about Christmas; he was only six, and I was already eleven. Way too old to believe in Christmas.

Plus there was not a good reason for me to be happy either, for my father had never returned during the holiday season.

Leon got the train set he always wanted, and of course he thought that it was a gift from Santa for his good behavior. But it was probably Mrs. Héderváry who had bought it from a toy shop in London.

_Arthur_, I remembered Leon asking me. _Will dad come back this year? _He had not seen father since he was a baby, and he had no memories of him. But he knew that he was not a direct kin to me and father; he may be young, but he was clever.

I guessed that he always thought of himself as an outcast of the family, which ironically was what I considered myself.

But I myself was pondering the same question as well.

Mrs. Héderváry said that father made no notice that he would be back today. But he did send a message to her that my cousin Allistor would visit. So I at least had one family member with me during Christmas dinner. Lovely.

Allistor was mother's sister's only son, and they always said that she was a redhead like the rest of her family. But I never knew if it was the truth or merely a rumor, because I had never seen a picture of my mother before. Father locked them all away and no one was allowed to see them, including me.

Mrs. Héderváry and the other staff of the manor were always full of Christmas spirits. They decorated the entire manor with various ornaments and lights (if that was even possible), and they always cooked a huge meal on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It was always fun to have so many people around during this time of the year, because it was the only time when I did not feel so isolated by the rest of the world.

"Do you like the train set Santa gave you, my dear?" Mrs. Héderváry asked Leon kindly. He beamed and nodded.

How I wished that I was still a little child at that moment. I wished that I still believed in false hope.

Before we started clearing out our plate filled with delicious homemade food, we all lowered our heads as Mrs. Bonnefoy led our prayer.

_"Dear Heavenly Father,_

_We bow our heads as we honor your presence at this table._

_We will remember that Jesus is the reason for the season. We will celebrate the arrival of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in a little stable in Bethlehem. _

_We thank you for the delicious food that has been provided, and that we can all gather around this table like a family._

_Please keep our Master Kirkland safe, no matter where he is at this moment. Our hearts will be with him._

_Lord, help us find and enjoy all of the blessings that you have placed in this Christmas day._

_Amen."_

I wished that they were my family instead of some people whom my father hired to look after me and the manor. I wished that they sincerely loved me as a whiney, sickly boy.

After dinner I ran straight outside in the snow with my thickest coat and gloves. My mother's grave seemed lonelier than ever when the stone stood alone in the whiteness that covered the ground, not a flower could be seen.

"Merry Christmas, mother," I whispered, dusting off the snow that covered her name.

At least that mother was still with me.

"Hey, Artie," Allistor called out to me from the front porch. "Let's have a snowball fight!"

I remembered that we threw balls of ice-cold snow at each other's face, making snow forts and building snowmen all over the back yard, around my mother. Francis and Lucille joined us in the game, but Leon was put to bed early that night.

"You really should go out more," Francis always said. "You are even paler than the snow!"

My health was not always as good as tonight. Sometimes I would catch a cold for no reason at all, and sometimes I would have a fever so high that Mr. Héderváry would have to drive me to the hospital overnight.

My Christmas wish was always this one thing: _to be like the other children in the manor, healthy and happy._

But that wish was never granted.

It was almost midnight and Francis and Lucille were picked up by their parents, and Allistor was too tired to move a muscle so he went to bed early. I sat beside the warm fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate; it would not be Christmas if one did not have hot chocolate, isn't it?

The fire was blazing as I stared into nothing, gathering my own thoughts and trying to imagine where father could be right now.

He could be back in Asia dealing with his overseas business, or he could be somewhere in Australia, having a holiday of his own. Maybe with his new wife; or perhaps not.

People always told me that father loved mother too much to remarry, and it just made me more guilty than ever, because I took away the one thing that father loved so much.

I always believed that it was the reason he never missed me or wanted to see me.

Although father did not return that night, I wished that he would be thinking of me, and Leon, and the rest of the family as well.

Or maybe he would not, anyway.

"_Heavenly father_," I prayed that night with all my heart. "_Please bring my father back home_."

I tried not to think that the house will be emptied tomorrow morning when I woke up.

* * *

><p>Hey there!<p>

Sorry this is not an official update; I will finish Chapter 5 ASAP.

Merry Christmas!


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